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She had selected a simple sapphire-blue dress to match the gloves delivered to her chambers that morning. They arrived in a white box, wrapped in crisp tissue paper and accompanied by a little note from Solstice, which Levana had thrown away without reading.
The gloves were even more beautiful in the daylight that poured through the palace windows, and the embroidery was more delicate and exquisite than she’d imagined. The threads began with flourishing Ls placed covertly on her palms, before curling around her forearms and past her elbows like living vines that then blended perfectly with the chains that continued on to her neck.
She almost felt like a queen standing there, and she couldn’t keep away a fantasy that she was the one being crowned that day. She hadn’t yet decided on an acceptable glamour for the occasion, so in that moment, she became her sister. Twenty-two years old, mature and elegant, with those ever-smiling eyes.
But no. She didn’t want to be Cha
No sooner had she thought it than another woman flashed through her thoughts.
I do not believe you have ever met my wife.
Trying on the glamour of Solstice Hayle felt like something taboo and reprehensible, and strangely right in the very wrongness of it. Levana thought of her flawless complexion and the ringlets of dark hair draped over her shoulders, of her almond-shaped eyes and the way her lips had a just-kissed hint of rouge to them, though the idea that the redness was caused by a kiss was quite possibly a product of Levana’s own envy. She thought of Solstice’s thick, flirtatious eyelashes, and how she had seemed to glow with happiness, even on a day of mourning. She thought of Solstice’s stomach, plump and round with the promise of a child.
Evret’s child.
Levana settled a hand on her own stomach, incorporating the pregnancy into the glamour. What must that feel like, to have a living creature growing inside her? A child created by love, not political advantage or manipulation.
“Levana, are you up—”
Gasping, Levana spun around as Cha
Cha
Sensing that Cha
“I do beg your pardon, Your Highness,” she said in her meekest voice. “I should not be up here. I was only waiting for my husband to get off duty and thought I would come to admire the decorations.”
Thinking she had already said more than a real seamstress would, Levana curtsied again. “May I take my leave of you, Your Highness?”
“Yes,” said Cha
“Of course, Your Highness.” Keeping her head bowed, Levana ducked around her sister and darted toward the steps.
“One more thing.”
She froze, a mere three steps lower than where Cha
“You are Sir Hayle’s wife, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She heard a soft footstep, and another, as Cha
“Do tell him how much I enjoyed our time together after the funeral,” said Cha
Levana’s jaw fell, horror and indignation filling her head as quickly as hot blood rushed to her face. “You’re lying!”
Cha
Balling her hands into fists, Levana turned and marched down the steps. “I’m only practicing!” she called over her shoulder.
“Practicing your glamour?” Cha
Smothering her embarrassment, Levana kept a firm hold on the glamour of Solstice Hayle, in part for the principle of it. Cha
“Stop it,” she seethed, arriving at the first landing. She rounded a carved column to continue down to the ground floor, her hand rested on her stomach like a real pregnant woman might do. “You’re only jealous because you never have any originality with your—”
She froze halfway down the steps.
Two guards stood at attention on the lower landing.
One of them was Evret Hayle.
A shudder pulsed through her, from her very empty womb up through her chest and vibrating down through her gloved fingertips.
Despite all his training, Evret was failing at keeping his expression stoic and disinterested. He gaped at Levana—Solstice—and he tried so very, very hard to look professional, but it was conflicted and confused.
“Solstice?” he stammered, brow furrowed as he took in the beautiful blue dress that pulled tight over her stomach, the elaborately embroidered gloves that he’d no doubt seen his wife working on the evening before. “You’re supposed to be resting. What are you doing here?”
Levana gulped and wished and wished and wished that she were truly his beloved.
“Oops,” said Cha
Levana felt a sob in the base of her throat, clawing to get out, and knew it would succeed if she stood there a moment longer. She tried to figure out what was the worst part of this moment. That Evret had seen her impersonating his wife, or that he might have heard Cha
She decided it was all mortifying. She decided she would rather have been stabbed sixteen times in the chest than have to live through this one excruciating moment.
Shoving Cha